


Gather Up Our Hearts

by Tieleen



Category: Inception (2010)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-12
Updated: 2011-01-12
Packaged: 2017-10-14 17:19:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/151638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tieleen/pseuds/Tieleen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a time, they remember nothing at all, least of all the fact that they'd forgotten.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gather Up Our Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [enigel](http://enigel.livejournal.com/)'s lovely prompt at [comment_fic](community.livejournal.com/comment_fic):
> 
>  _Inception, Cobb/author's choice, A Thousand Kisses Deep - Leonard Cohen_
> 
>  _Confined to sex, we pressed against  
>  The limits of the sea:  
> I saw there were no oceans left  
> For scavengers like me.  
> I made it to the forward deck  
> I blessed our remnant fleet –  
> And then consented to be wrecked,  
> A Thousand Kisses Deep._

After a time, they remember nothing at all, least of all the fact that they'd forgotten.

The sound of the sea is constant and soothing, and sleep feels odd, itself a half-forgotten thing. They huddle against each other on the sand, looking off towards where the sea and the sky come together, and talk in whispers, reluctant to disturb the nothing all around them.

When she turns back to look beyond the shore, there are cliffs, roads, buildings; she remembers walking down the trail snaking up one hill in the distance, coming down to a beautiful little plaza. St. James square, she thinks, and that feels important, but she can't think why.

She's tired, and her old bones ache, with the wind and the sand and the beauty they've created etched deep inside her. A short walk and they'll be surrounded by it, a city full of half-remembered things, of borrowed windows and stolen doorways, misplaced columns she can't recall well enough to put back in their rightful places.

She remembers swimming, sometimes. Remembers washing up on this shore. But it's so long ago, now; surely just a dream.

"Trust me," Dom says. He's said it over and over again, weeks -- years? -- on end. Now something turns in her mind, and she thinks, yes. How can this be true, a whole world already built? How can every corner be half-known already, and nothing familiar? Even the ocean is half-memory, half-fairy tale; beyond those cliffs, the whole empty world is theirs. How can that be right?

"Yes," she says, and kisses him, and he holds her face in his hands, her forehead against his, his callused hands against her wrinkled cheeks. "Yes."


End file.
